


Liebe schmeckt wie Kaviar

by Saniika



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, Unreliable Narrator, YOI Secret Santa 2018, Yuri Plisetsky Has a Crush on Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saniika/pseuds/Saniika
Summary: Lord Yuuri Katsuki is on a diplomatic mission in Russia. He seeks out a place to rest and finds a cafe inside the palace. The personnel is just as delectable as the coffee they make. However personal feelings slip into the mix and the drinks feel quickly bittersweet. Emotions and obligations are complicated.***Done for the Secret Santa 2018.





	Liebe schmeckt wie Kaviar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seanconneraille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seanconneraille/gifts).



> No warnings this time.  
> Thank you to [Dr. Hat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat/works) for the quick beta job and listening to me whine/emotional support.
> 
> Liebe schmeckt wie Kaviar - German for Love tastes like the caviar  
> Matrioška - in Slovak, the Russian toy Matryoshka doll (nesting doll)  
> Raf - is a special way to prep a coffee - more on it [here.](https://sprudge.com/raf-coffee-russia-91027.html)  
> Bozhe moy - Russian for My god

“‘K! Will that be all!” The beautiful brass cash register cries by the rough treatment as the young man bashes some buttons. 

Yuuri winces once more in the need to buy more time, since he’s not exactly sure if the barista means it as a question or it’s basically attempt to bark Yuuri away. The whole experience is so distracting he misses Victor altogether. Yurio, as the name tag of the angry barista says, looks even more irritated and about to yell something else. Therefore Yuuri chooses to nod his head in a neutral manner and quickly leaves the cafe Matrioška.

The terrifying encounter serves for one good thing though. Lord Yuuri Katsuki is so shaken, he forgets for a brief moment the diplomatic mission and actually enjoys the coffee. In fact a week later he finds it so effective that he returns to the cafe right after challenging negotiations.

This time there is barely no queue in front of the bar, but all the tables are occupied and the cafe just boils in the commotion. Their attention is focused on something, or rather someone, who happens to waltz right from behind Yuuri and cause another terrifying experience. 

“Oh! Goodness!” The man notices him, Yuuri is pretty sure he must have, but bumps into Yuuri’s shoulder nonetheless and immediately grabs onto his shoulders, looking very invested. “I am SO very sorry! Please forgive my clumsiness, today we’re a bit short handed and I’m not my usual graceful self!” He says, dragging his glowed hands from Yuuri’s shoulders to his wrists and looks almost pained to let them go. He finishes the waltz and magically stands behind the counter, which now fortunately separates him from Yuuri.

Yuuri is completely lost and doesn’t believe the man a thing. Everything from flipping the silver fringe from his forehead to playful tilt of his head speaks grace, but to challenge a stranger is not polite. And Lord Yuuri can’t be impertinent. Thus he decides to withstand the hurricane and stand as a pole, mute and polite. If the situation requires it, perhaps saying yes or no should work. Hopefully.

“I’m Victor!” He says and twists the name-tag with the unfamiliar calligraphy and Yuuri can’t stop repeating it in his own mind. 

Binktop. Bink top. Top. Bink. Oh god, no. Yuuri didn’t pay attention and Binktop is asking him something. He decides to wing it and breathes out a yes.

“So you are for work here then! Good guess! Looking for some fun perhaps to fill out the spare time?” Victor is holding a beautiful cup and traces it’s rim with the gloved forefinger, his palm still uncovered invitingly. Yuuri can’t help but stare at it and thinking how it would feel to test the leather. It looks so soft. 

Wasn’t he supposed to be preoccupied with the marital selection for his beloved sister Lady Mari, looking out for both, the best of their House name and her happiness?

“I’d like to.” Yuuri hears himself replying calmly with a stranger’s voice. “Perhaps when the opportunity arises.” It doesn’t sound so strange anymore and Yuuri actually feels a lot more confident talking to Victor the more he stays in his presence.

“Oh, that’s splendid! I do hope you won’t pass on experiencing Russia and all its delicacies. Perhaps I can entice you for a Raf? Delicious sugared coffee with the loveliest cream you can dream of? You’ll lap it of your fingers, that I promise!”

The wink is so sudden just as the flash of canine tooth and again Yuuri answers from behind the curtain of his consciousness.

“Please, do entice me.”

A faint tint colors Victor’s cheeks and he clears his throat a little. He almost whispers with a low voice: “And to whom shall I address all the sweetest sugar?”

“Yuuri. Just, Yuuri.”

Victor eyes him for a moment as if thinking over if there’s something more behind how Yuuri is presenting himself in the Royal cafe. For now the information seems for him enough and he prepares the coffee as described with practiced ease and loads of grace of course. Yuuri hasn’t seen any barista prepare a coffee quite like this. It’s mesmerizing to watch and he doesn’t notice the approach of Yurio from before until Victor quietly sends him to the cash register to tend the lining up queue.

Lord Yuuri should be reading the latest paperwork from the meeting and perhaps confer with Mari about the possibilities they have. Instead he sits on the inlaid chair and sinks into the cushion and watches Victor bring him the steaming cup personally. The lovely brown vest and pure white puffy shirt hug Victor’s chest so nicely. It’s an eye candy. 

His heart stops and suddenly beats faster when Victor leans down, to lay the cup on the table and twists his head ever so slightly. His breath brushes over the angel hair on Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri feels the spoken words more than hears.

“I hope I’ll get to have a chance to show you a lot more of Russian sugar, Yuuri.” His expression is soft and light smile tickles the corner of his mouth. “Please do not hesitate to call me when you need something.”

A single chocolate coin in golden foil rests beside the cup on a platter and when Yuuri seeks out Victor’s retreating form, the other places a forefinger in front of his own lips. “It’s on the house.”

Lord Yuuri should be working diligently, instead he spends stealing glances from Victor for the next couple of hours over his lukewarm coffee.

♔♔♔

The following week Yuuri comes everyday and makes sure to order a golden coin to go with his coffee. If it’s Yurio serving, Yuuri almost wiggles himself out of it, but the overly forceful young man catches him of guard on Thursday.

“What? No coin today? Just order one if you want it! It won’t make you that much fatter.”

“Yuuuu-ri-oh!” Victor waltzes in as if on command and shines brighter than the most unpleasant, hottest African sun. 

“What! What did I do?! You can tell he wants it! I’m being obsequious, that’s a good thing!” He actually whips the counter with a dish cloth and stomps the floor. Yet Victor shoves him persistently towards the tables.

“Table Four please. It’s your favorite quiet customer. Otabek.”

Yurio colors visibly and immediately stops putting up the fight. He just barks out turning on his heal for the good measure: “He’s not a customer! He’s my friend!”

Yuuri is amused by the whole theater and forgets the insult easily. It’s endearing to watch Victor interacting with his colleague. It seems almost like they’re family. Yuuri longs for such carefree freedom. Victor is fascinating, surprising and refreshing.

“Now, Yuuri. You wanted two coins.” Victor proclaims, stealing the faulty coin from Yuuri’s hand and lets it disappear along with one more in a gift bag. He leans on the counter with both elbows and rocks his head while writing a note on the gift tag.

“Ah, no. Just one?” Yuuri tries to clear the misunderstanding.

“Ah, that won’t do, I see the first one has a crumpled foil. You need a second one.” The tone leaves no room for discussion. Yuuri almost feels as if he’s insulting Victor. It’s hard to resist his Russian sugar. It’s futile and so Yuuri gives in easily.

“Thank you.”

When Yuuri returns to the office chamber, he opens the note carefully with trembling fingers. He laughs for being so nervous, it’s surely just a silly joke scribbled carelessly on the paper. The laugh doesn’t last long. On the card is a very controlled, stylish and ornamental calligraphy saying:

“I finish at 21:00. Come see me.”

Phichit doesn’t fail to harass him for the remainder of the whole day, trying to figure out why are Yuuri’s ears so bright red and his face flushed like raspberry.

♔♔♔

Two weeks pass and Yuuri finally gathers the courage to visit the cafe right at the closing time. Victor beams up immediately upon his arrival, flips the door sign to Closed and pulls up a chair in a cozy staff room.

Victor doesn’t protest when Yuuri offers to helps with the cleanup and even teaches Yuuri few tricks while he prepares a coffee for them. Such late night meetings repeat and evolve into longer talks on the sofa, with whispered confessions of what the one or the other dreams of. These dreams overlap and the two men find that they compliment each other in the most fitting way. 

It’s easy to talk with Victor and yet hard at the same time. Yuuri wishes he could tell him, that he’s a Lord and on a temporary mission. He doesn’t want to tell Victor about his status and end things are they are now between them. The quiet understanding and sense of safety is too alluring and comfortable. Yuuri wants to lavish in these moments.

There’s something in Victor’s eyes on the third Friday night and Yuuri has a hunch that Victor too hesitates to breach their little cocoon. There’s a strange kind of hope and want radiating from him, the way he’s playing with his vest and taps his leg. Yuuri is sure it’s not the shot of liquor in the coffee they both had, that makes Victor slip the cool, self-assured persona.

“Why don’t you ask me?”

The tone of his voice is clear and splashes Yuuri’s ears like fresh morning water. It’s sobering.

“Pardon?” The sofa is too warm and cozy and Victor is relaxed, sprawled beside Yuuri in such an inviting manner and it’s difficult to keep up a guard. “Ask you what?”

And then Yuuri fulfills his wish to feel the leather of Victor’s gloves on his own skin, because Victor takes his hand and traces a thumb over the thin skin on Yuuri’s wrist.

“Ask me to serve you.” A glowing kiss of the softest lips replaces the sensation of leather and rapturous whisper brushes over the moist vacant spot shortly after. “Won't you let me?” 

The kiss hovers so close, Yuuri can feel it coming. It is there, their lips are touching fleeting like scattered dandelion seeds. Yet the final push fails, the seal of pressure, the force Victor doesn’t apply and Yuuri doesn’t exert. 

The thought of his status and mission let’s his head lay heavy on the sofa backrest. The doubt and worry weighting as a rock and a leech eating at his heart.

“I can't.”

Lord Yuuri can’t. Victor is gorgeous and an extraordinary commoner, but he surely can’t find Yuuri that special. He would disappoint Victor in the end he’s sure. Having to come clean about his status, would entice Victor, but quickly lose its luster. Lord Yuuri doesn’t hold a high function and is merely a diplomat, who hates socializing and uses words sparingly. He’s destined to lead a nomad life and won’t settle in, so the meager housing - a building hardly passing as a mansion - that would be a lonely home for his potential husband. Victor would be bored, he’d find a replacement for Yuuri in the end, sooner or later. And no this really can’t do. Lord Yuuri is not a huge win and Yuuri has also nothing to offer that would be worthwhile for such a rare specimen as Victor. 

That’s why he tries to ignore Victor’s distressed eyes searching Yuuri’s face. That’s why Yuuri pushes gently against Victor’s chest and Lord Yuuri tries to ignore the melting heat emitting from the fine linen shirt. His fingertips slide over the ruffled lace placket and nails try to scoop at least the remnant of the heat with themselves. Afterwards Yuuri is gone and Lord Yuuri leaves the cafe without looking back.

Distance is good. It’s what they need.

♔♔♔

The proceedings don’t go good, there’s a lot of paperwork to go through and the Russians don’t seem to respond well to the reports. Yuuri longs to go for a coffee but doesn’t dare for obvious reasons. Phichit frowns a lot and Yuuri notices only after he’s hit by Phichit on the back out of frustration.

“You. Are. Too. Stubborn.” Phichit says rubbing his stinging palm. “I swear you’ll finish me off one day at this rate. I will perish watching you self sabotaging yourself. Have pity!” 

That’s when the attendees of the scheduled meeting enter the room. Yuuri is in chaos, feeling the effect of Phichit’s words on a personal level and fights to clear his mind, forces himself to think on his sister. Oh lord, just how will he do this. How can he resolve the betrothal of his estimated older sister Lady Mari and the Second young prince Yuri Plisetsky. It’s a nightmare walking. He has to think of something…

He hastens to stand up at the end of the oak table and straightens the edges of his official diplomatic uniform.

Someone asks what refreshments would all like. Tea, coffee… A few more precious seconds for Yuuri to gather up the composure in a fruitless effort. And then...Yuuri looks up, taking in the people.

Complete, with an entourage behind his back, stands the barista at the other end of the table. Except there is Yurio in a very formal uniform on his left side and on his right poses the Swiss ambassador Giacometti. And the most important part is, that the barista is not dressed for his job, but way above his social rank. 

Yuuri has to blink twice to make sure his eyes are not failing. It doesn’t help, it must be his mind then. Too bad he can’t schedule a emergency psychiatric appointment to check if he’s not going crazy. Do hallucinations get offended by impromptu cancelled meetings? He can’t be right.

Victor donned in full Tsarevich getup stares just as stunned back at Yuuri and then he recites a complete order of Yuuri’s favorite coffee with a blank face. 

“Oh.” Phichit proclaims into the suddenly stagnant chamber and then rubs it in. “O-hooo.”

Yuuri wants to sink into the ground and thinks of excluding Phichit from his will. This is a nightmare. He might faint.

“I know this is rather unprecedented, but could you all please leave us alone for a moment?” Victor asks pleasantly and everyone in the room leaves reluctantly, willing to comply but wanting to see what this is all about.

No! They should come back, then they’ll do a make-over and all will be right. It will make sense. Victor will still be Yuuri’s private heartthrob barista and it will all stay a bittersweet memory for Yuuri’s retirement. 

Victor’s steps are muffled by the plush carpet with the elaborate Persian pattern. Yuuri wants to remember every little facet of it, just like the inlaid rococo table top. Immediately if possible, he is even considering a change of career. A carpenter or carpet seller. Yuuri hates sales, but he would make do if pressed. And right now, he’s really pressed with each shortening of the distance between Victor and himself. At last Victor reaches his end of the table.

“Why didn't you come back for a coffee? I was waiting for you every day.” 

Yuuri closes his eyes, as if it would help not to hear the soft tint in Victor’s voice. As if it would spare him from seeing the forlorn look in Victor’s eyes. He has to sit down. Yuuri collapses into the chair like a sack of potatoes, disarmed by the non threatening question. 

“I… I didn't know and my sister was on stake. I thought I’d have to… for the marriage. And you’re...a Tsarevich?” He realizes it doesn’t make much sense but they both seem to be lost. Victor is trying to find a way for the both of them in the situation. He puts the fancy hat with a feather on the table and crouches beside Yuuri’s chair, reading his face as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I am, yes. Does it change anything?” He takes Yuuri’s hand into his own and massages his wrist with a gloved hand. This time the gloves are made of buckskin. 

“Well, yes! Of course it does!” Yuuri snaps towards Victor and slaps the armrest to make a point. “I’m just a small Lord. I don’t even have a proper estate and the title is just a mere decoration, really… we couldn’t possibly… I wouldn’t be fit enough for you.” His anger is weakening, with each little peck Victor gives his knuckles. And it’s throttled at the root with the faint chuckle Victor breathes over them.

“Yuuri.” Victor frowns a little and then he’s the most serious and flat Victor Yuuri has even seen. “There’s nothing else that would make me any happier than marrying you.” A strong squeeze forces Yuuri to focus on his earnest words. “I’d serve you for the rest of my life if you’d let me.”

This chamber, entourage, responsibilities nor the uniforms. All don’t matter. All is the same, just as the Friday night after closing time on that one cozy sofa. They’re still just Yuuri and Victor. It could be really that simple. They could work out. Can Yuuri hope and dare? 

This is so crazy, but his heart drums in a crescendo and it’s a grandiose finale, waiting for a standing ovation. Yuuri is charging up, full of energy, bubbling flood of a dam, building on intensity. He’s so overwhelmed to be proposed by the man of his dreams. He didn’t know he was looking for love until he found Victor. He is so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice Victor still waiting for his reaction and that he doesn’t breathe. His cheeks are losing color and his eyes the hopeful luster. 

Victor swallows reluctantly and tightens his grip on Yuuri’s hand firmer, as if he needed to hold onto Yuuri in fear he’ll perish into the abyss should he be rejected. “That is,... if you’ll have me.”

Victor’s regal hat is flipped over from the table as Yuuri catapults from the chair and pounces on Victor. He’s choking Victor with the most clumsy kiss and thank god the carpet is so thick, otherwise Victor surely would have gotten a concussion from the impact.

“Oh my god, Yuuri!” Victor gushes once they need to catch a breath. “I didn’t know you keep such an Eros inside you!” 

For a moment Yuuri flushes red in shame, but sees the excitement in Victor’s eyes shining like Christmas lights. He lounges at him with renewed confidence, finding no resistance as a welcome. 

“With your Russian sugar, I am shocked I’m not pregnant yet.”

“Bozhe moy...” Victor laments in delight. 

They don’t notice the quiet knock and soft click of the opening door, nor the people peeking in to check upon them. But the rough bark rips them away from each other.

“Oh god! Gross.” Yurio live comments over the heads of Phichit and Christophe. “Thank god, it took you awhile! Just do me a favor and get it out of your system before the wedding, OK? Otherwise I’m not sitting anywhere near you during the wedding dinner.”

Yuuri’s face is glowing like lava and the only consolation he finds in the situation is that with his own betrothal to Victor Mari is spared one for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song [Moskau 1979.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvS351QKFV4)  
> There is a [English language version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP5tMM9V1S8) too.  
> Victor is most likely wearing [the military uniform of the Tsar Nicholas II.](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tsar_Nikolai_II_\(2\).jpg)
> 
> ***  
> Thank you for reading! Did you like the work? Please let me know and share it :)  
> I appreciate the motivation!


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